Mommy's Little Soldier
by AdventureBlock
Summary: Everyone always said that Sebastian was his mother's son. Sebastian never realized exactly how true this was.
1. Father

Part 1(Hopefully) of the series.

I don't own anything, it all belongs to other people blah blah blah.

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><p>Sebastian knew. He knew better than anyone that life passed by quickly. When he was a child, his Mother weeped for the loss of his Father. She had only ever cried twice, the second being when he enrolled in the army. She was a brave woman, braver than any he had ever seen, and he loved her. She had taught him so many lessons over the years, valuable ones that he would carry throughout his life. The only time he ever ignored her words was when she explained love.<p>

Augustus Moran was a strict, intelligent, whiskey drinking man. Every night, when he returned home, the family sat together at the dinner table and everything was happy for that single, fleeting moment. After the table had been cleared and Sebastian moved to the living room to play or read, things turned dark. The whiskey would come out and that was when Sebastian and his mother knew Father was coming back. Sebastian only called him Father when he was drunk. When he was sober, it was Dad or sometimes even Daddy, with the occasional Gus thrown in from his Mother. But Father...he was a man that was not to be messed with. He was a man who's face turned a nasty vermilion shade when angry or drunk (a trait that Sebastian would later learn he had as well). He was a man who liked to beat his wife.

One night, when Father walked in the door, it was apparent that he had visited a Pub before coming home. His face, colored in the horrid vermilion, seemed contorted, showing a misplaced rage. Mother gave Sebastian a few sweets that she had baked earlier that day and ushered him into his room, telling him to stay inside. He sat in his room, playing with some of his toys and munching away on the sweets, being a good little boy like his Mommy had asked.

That was when the yelling began. It didn't sound like the fights Mother and Father had had in the past. This time, Mommy was yelling and Sebastian was sure he could hear her crying, as well. Glasses shattered and suddenly he heard a high pitched scream, followed by heavy pounding in the hallway leading to his room. He grabbed a small stuffed animal off of his bed, holding it close to him and wishing that the noise would go away. Father opened the door, his face back to the normal pale shade. This was Daddy that had come to talk to him. He told Sebastian to get up and that dinner would be ready in a few minutes. Sebastian stood up and hugged his Daddy's legs.

_"I love you, Daddy."_

There was no response other than a gentle pat to the head. He followed Daddy into the dining room and sat in his usual chair, excited to see what Mommy had made for them tonight. It seemed like it would be a normal night, until Mommy walked in with the food. Her hair looked messy and she looked like she had been crying quite a lot. The first thing Sebastian had noticed, though, was the large cut on her cheek. "Go clean yourself up, Anne," said Augustus, pushing her roughly towards the small bathroom down the hall. She stumbled slightly, catching herself on a bookcase.

Every few weeks, Augustus Moran would come home drunk and abuse his wife. Once Sebastian turned 13, he began to question why Mother would put up with this kind of treatment.

_"Sometimes, when you find someone that you love, you're willing to look past the hurt that they put you through. You're willing to stay with them, no matter what. I love your father, Seb. That will never change. No matter how many times he hits me or how many times he's broken bottles and plates in the house, I will still love him."_

Annelise Moran had been the only one to cry when Augustus died. It was a freak car accident; a simple mistake at a traffic stop. Sebastian knew better. Everyone who actually knew Father knew better. He had been at the bar, probably chatting up some young girl and drinking glass after glass of whiskey when he realized it was time for dinner. The truth about the crash was never revealed. Probably, Sebastian guessed, because no one needed a coroner's report to know how Father had died.

He was glad Father was gone. If that made him a bad person, fine. He was sick and tired of hearing his mother talk about how much she loved the man who beat her every night. If that was what love was, then fuck it all. Sebastian didn't want that. He didn't want any of it. If there had been any time that Sebastian was glad he looked so much like his mother, it was now. If he had had to look in the mirror every day and see that bastard's face, he wouldn't have been able to handle it. He was Mother's child. Her little boy who looked and acted so much like her. Sebastian would never realize exactly how similar he and his mother were, not even as he silently sobbed on the roof of St. Bart's many years later.

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><p>This is hopefully going to be part one in a series of short stories about Sebastian, so...yeah.<p>

Thanks for reading~!


	2. Drunken Mess

Alright, second chapter! Sebastian's drunken himself into quite a state and he meets a stranger!

Nothing belongs to me. You know the drill.

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><p>Sebastian was broken.<p>

He was a soldier with no commanding officer. A dishonored war hero. He had saved countless lives and what did he get in return? Accusations of murder. Here he was, sitting at a bar, hunched over and staring at the letter.

His discharge papers. Colonel Sebastian Moran discharged on two counts of suspected murder of fellow soldiers and one count of wounding an army doctor. The same army doctor who ratted him out after he killed the lieutenant. They had gotten in his way, refused to obey his orders. As far as Sebastian was concerned, there was no room for weakness in his unit.

He finished off his glass and signaled for the bartender to come over. The grey haired man walked over, a glass of Irish whiskey in hand. He set it down in front of Sebastian and wiped his hands on a small towel.

"Compliments of the young man down the bar."

Sebastian's tired eyes narrowed slightly, confused. The bartender nodded towards a small man sitting alone at the end of the bar. Sebastian's eyes scanned over him, taking in as much information as his hazy mind could. Expensive looking suit, short cut hair, overall he looked relatively professional. Probably a high paying job somewhere in the city. He took the glass of whiskey in his hand and swished the liquid around a bit, his jaw set in a tight positon.

"He say anything?"

Sebastian's head swam as he tried to form the words. He'd been there for two, no three...four hours? God, he couldn't even remember how many drinks he'd had. The bartender, what had his name been? Steve? No. John. No, no, no, Liam. Fuck. Now he was getting names confused. Steve and Liam, the men he killed, and John, the squealing army doctor. He needed a break. He needed to sober up. He needed a job. Most important, he _needed_ to go back to war.

"Just said to send you another drink."

Sebastian rose from his seat, trying to focus on keeping his feet firmly planted on the wooden floor. He took a small step and felt like he was flying.

"Dear God.."

He sat down on another high chair, unable to make it farther than two feet away from his place at the bar. The bartender, Michael! Michael, right. That was his name. Bartender Michael gave a small sigh and shook his head, walking to another customer that had been waiting patiently at a table across the pub. Sebastian rested his elbows on the bar, burying his face in his hands.

"I'm a mess."

Sebastian wasn't even sure if he had spoke coherently, not that it mattered. Not like anybody gave a fuck about what he had to say anymore. He heard the scraping of a chair against the floor and he cringed, the sound seeming like a high pitched screech. A few footsteps later, he heard the seat next to him creak slightly.

"Jim Moriarty."

The man held out a hand, his Irish toned speech lulling Sebastian into a calm. He grunted softly, turning to face the strange man. After a few blinks to get rid of the slight spinning feeling that came over him, he nodded.

"Seb-Sebastian Moran."

A slight hiccup plagued his speech as he tried to form his own name. Fuck. He was a mess. A drunken mess. He needed to pick himself up. What a wonderful first impression. He noticed the man's hand, held out a waiting for a reciprocating act. His hand went out quickly, missing the man's by a few inches. Fuck. With a slightly shaking hand, he grabbed the man's and gave it a weak shake.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Moriarty. Thank you for the drink."

Sebastian's voice faded out as he looked for the glass of whiskey that he had just had in front of him. He turned towards his old seat and saw the glass, abandoned, then reached over to pull it in front of him. An attractive smirk spread over the small man's lips and he shook his head, moving his hands to cradle the small drink in front of him. "The pleasure is all mine, Sebastian."


	3. The Morning After

Part 3 and stuff, yay~!

I don't own anything. You know how this goes.

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><p>There wasn't very much that could scare Colonel Sebastian Moran. Before the army, he had had fears just like everyone else;bees, heights, even spiders. The army made him rougher, harder, strong willed, better. It had been years since he last felt fear.<p>

There was _nothing_ that could scare ex-Colonel Sebastian Moran.

Nothing but that voice.

His mind in a hazy fog, he rose from bed. A sharp burst of pain ran up from the base of his spine and through his shoulder, finally turning into a dull ache.

"Good morning, Colonel," Greeted a lazy voice, Irish tones more evident in the husk. A spur of fear hit his stomach, almost paralyzing him.

"It's rude to ignore your host, Sebastian," Threatened the same sickly sweet voice.

The ex-Colonel's eyes flickered around, trying to make out shapes in the darkness of the room. His head was pounding, a punishment for drinking so much. Yes, the drinking! Now he remembered. The pub, the drinks, the bartender, Irish whiskey, that man-

"Jim." Just speaking made the ex-Colonel's head pound.

"So you can speak," the voice purred,"I was afraid you had worn out that throat of yours."

Another shock of fear. This time, though, mixed with excitement.

"Where am I?"

"I'm hurt, Sebastian. You don't remember?"

Soft footsteps padded across the carpet, stopping by the side of the bed. Spider-like fingers brushed along his back and the drunken haze lifted.

"Oh, God..."

"That'a boy."

Sebastian wanted to run, the urge to be sick overwhemling his every sense.

_What have I done?_

He buried his face in his caloused hands, a soft groan leaving his lips.

"What have I done?"

The hand brushed along the twitching muscles of Sebastian's shoulder, a slight smirk evident in the man's words.

"Now, now, Sebby-"

"Don't call me that."

The words came out as a snarl, something Sebastian knew he would regret. Short nails dug into his tanned skin, almost hard enough to draw blood.

"Don't interrupt Daddy when he's speaking, dear. Now, as I was saying, don't upset yourself over trivial matters."

In the slight light coming from the window, Sebastian could make out the man's face. Jim, from the pub, was standing there, a shark-like grin plastered on his lips.

"I do believe we have some business to discuss. And don't worry your pretty little head, Sebby, I didn't touch you."

Jim turned on his heel and marched towards the door, flicking the light switch just as he reached it.

"Not yet, anyway."

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><p>Next chapter will be up, hopefully, in a few days. I've been on a roll with this stuff lately. I've got the next three or four chapters planned out, along with a few short stories.<p> 


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